The Cult of Emrys
by Unformal Sorrelle
Summary: AU- Arthur is kidnapped by a strange group of sorcerers who are bent on putting someone called Emrys on the throne of Camelot. While there, he meets a strange boy, who he assumes is a peasant, named Merlin who is just as much of a prisoner as he is. Will they escape? Will Arthur learn that swords are not very useful on sorcerers? Will Merlin get his revenge?
1. Chapter 1

The Cult of Emrys  
Chapter One  
_Disclaiment: The Author only owns what she owns, and nothing she doesn't_

_**A\N**: Hello Merlin fandom! It's been a while, hasn't it? Well anyways, I've decided to write this fic. It's probably going to be super short, under five chapters for sure. The basis of this is it's an AU where Merlin's magic was revealed when he was still in Ealdor and a scheming group of sorcerers get ahold of him to rule Camelot. Merlin's not exactly down for that, but without control of his magic, he doesn't see many options in his future. Arthur gets kidnapped by this group, known as The Cult of Emrys, and the two will have to sort out the proper destiny and all that. It's set pre-series time, probably six months before the first episode. Ok, I think that's about it. On to the story! Charge and all that! FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT! *large army ventures forth with dramatic horses* _

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"How are you doing?"

Prince Arthur of Camelot was sitting on the damp ground of the forest with his hands shackled together and a metal band around his neck. Not only had he been miserably taken prisoner, but his captors had had the gall to use magical restraints on him. If he even tried to escape, the cursed collar would begin to burn- even thinking about it too hard made it itch.

So he wasn't exactly doing _great_.

He wasn't even going to respond to the dark haired boy when he noticed that he was also wearing a metal collar, although his was thicker and had even more of those sorcerous runes on it. Was this another prisoner? Arthur really doubted the young man was making a fashion statement.

"I've been better." Arthur managed to say only bitingly instead of murderously in a show of curious magnanimity.

"I can imagine." The other, possible, prisoner nodded his head, "Far cry from ruling a kingdom?"

"As if you know anything about royalty? For all you know, I could be kidnapped every day before breakfast." Arthur sneered superciliously; secretly amused by the odd turn this conversation had taken. He wouldn't let the peasant know though, anybody really. It hit Arthur how starved he was for stimulation that this was the least boring thing to happen to him since he'd been kidnapped.

"I don't think so. You certainly don't look as if you've missed any breakfasts recently."

"Did you just call me fat?!" Arthur was more than a little surprised, this was almost getting surreal.

"That would be rude, of course not!" He responded, "I just insinuated that your princely lifestyle-"  
Arthur cut him off with a look. He was incredibly bemused, not sure whether he should be angry or to start laughing. On one hand, the prince was quite indignant about being talked to in such an insulting, familiar manner, but on the other it was strangely amusing.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The prince inquired.

"I'm just Merlin," the dark haired boy shrugged, "I've been here for years. They captured me and burnt down my village a long time ago."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, wondering what they had taken Merlin for. Was he some sort of slave? Or was he some kind of political pawn? Arthur had assumed he was a peasant but presumably Merlin would have to be of import for them to destroy a village to get him. Of course, Arthur reminded himself, who was he to know how the minds of sorcerers worked?

The captors were a surprisingly large group of sorcerers and Druids who wanted to put a man called Emrys upon the throne of Camelot. For years this group had grown in strength and power until they had the influence to bribe the castle guards and capture Arthur from his own bed after his glass had been drugged with a powerful sleeping draught. These sorcerers were dangerous and a very big problem.

So what could the Cult of Emrys want with Merlin?

"Any way to escape?" Arthur had to ask.

"Not for me," Merlin said glumly, "I don't even have anywhere left to go. I don't know about you. If they have you on a tracking spell, then no."

"There has to be some way out!"

"Death?" Merlin offered darkly, scowling,

"My father will send a rescue party after me. It's not the most dignified of escapes, but I'll get you out."

Merlin shook his head, hand reaching for his own metal band. "See this symbol?" It looks like a squaggly 'Q' with a curved mustache extending from its middle. "If I don't stay close to Dras then I'll die a painful death. Or something of that nature. I tested it once, I was free for about three days but it got to the point where I was convulsing it was so bad. They found me soon after that and put even more wards on me."

"What if you got the collar off?" Arthur asked, disgusted about such cruel magic. Did he have that symbol carved into his?

"Then I would... I don't know." Merlin admitted, "It could quite possibly kill me. I've had it on for so long that magic- I don't know. I've never managed to even scratch the metal so I don't thinks it's possible to take it off without magic."

"You're just full of optimism, Merlin."

"Sorry, prat, but if I knew how, I would have left years ago."

"So you're just going to accept there's nothing to be done? You're not going to fight?"

"I've fought enough." Merlin replied, "If it wasn't much use then, back when my fury raged from my mothers death, my best friend lying in the dirt with an arrow in his side, and my freedom stripped away. If I could have done anything at all, I would have done it then. I tried everything, but my hate and desperation destroyed me.

"So yes, I have accepted my fate. If there was anything I could do to stop it, I would."

Arthur wasn't sure how to respond. Things had gotten too personal and they were only strangers. Arthur had hoped that he could get some help, he had never wanted a tragic defeatist rant. In some ways, Arthur was scared that Merlin was right, and the prince wouldn't get out of this mess.

Merlin let out a nervous laugh, and gave an awkward shrug, "Sorry. You didn't need to hear that. I suppose I'm still bitter, probably always will be."

"I still believe that my father can get us out of this." Arthur stated, still not ready to abandon all hope.  
Merlin gave an odd looking smile, as if trying not to laugh but nodded and managed to give a serious answer, "I hope that you're right."

"Do these cursed collars actually do damage or does it make us just feel the pain?" Arthur's collar had been itching incessantly and he was wondering if he could just brave the pain and run regardless. It wouldn't be easy, but as long as the pain was only in his mind, Arthur was willing to fight with his stubbornness. However, if the band was actually burning his neck, Arthur would prefer to refrain from killing himself and getting a rather unattractive brand.

Merlin winced, making Arthur worried, "Usually, it's just pain. Dras can change that with a thought though." He lifted up an edge of his own collar, showing a nasty looking burn scar.

Arthur gave a sober nod and went back to his background planning. The main thing to do would be to get the collar off then, no matter how impossible Merlin claimed it to be. What would he know? Arthur was still assuming he was a peasant, and peasants weren't exactly known for their agile minds or warriorcraft. He knew that wasn't exactly fair, it came from the part of him that his father has instilled, but the prince needed some way to believe that he wasn't utterly doomed. If Merlin was an equal, and his rage hadn't even let him escape, then Arthur had less of a chance. As the Prince, Arthur was used to leading and guiding all his subordinates, protecting them and taking charge. So both habit and fear had him put Merlin as a less capable victim who Arthur also had to save.

"Who is this Dras you keep speaking of? Is he Emrys's right hand man?"

"What?" Merlin's eyes bulged almost comically,

"Emrys, the man who wants the throne."

"I can assure you," Merlin said slowly, "That Emrys does not want the throne of Camelot."

"But-"

"Dras wants a puppet king. He's the one running the show. He found a prophecy that suited him and twisted it to his advantage."

"So the Cult of Emrys is not actually run by Emrys?" Arthur raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't even heard about this Dras character.

"No. It's Dras."

Arthur took a second to mull it over. In the end, it didn't really matter. All sorcerers were the same, weren't they? Whether the name was Emrys or Dras didn't really matter. His father would put them both on a pyre all the same.

It was strange though.

"Then who's Emrys?"

Merlin paused, brushing some hair behind his uncommonly large ears, "Well, you've heard of the prophecies."

"No. I've-" well, Arthur's father, "never concerned myself with the superstitions of sorcery."

"Emrys is supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer of all time. With him, a Golden Age is supposed to happen, the Once and Future King. Magic shall be freed, Albion united, and all shall stand equal before the king."

"Why would anyone believe that? Everyone knows that sorcery is a corruptive that will only lead to evil. No good could ever come of a sorcerer, certainly not this Emrys."

"It's a prophecy." Merlin said slowly, not quite wincing, shrugging. "The Druids believe that it will happen. I know I'm not convinced it's happening in this century."

"Camelot will never have a place for magic as long as my father is on the throne."

"Notice how Dras is trying to remove your father from said throne?"

Arthur growled, "A group of sorcerers will never defeat the knights of Camelot!"

Merlin shrugged again.

Arthur knew that, well, perhaps he was being overly confident. Ok, confident wasn't the right word. But did a word exist for "arrogantly repeating his father"?

He thought not.

But Arthur was not one to show weakness, and unfortunately, he was reduced to borrowing his father's. How pathetic!

Even Merlin seemed to realize how weak it was because he looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Do you want me to get your hands loose? I know it won't help much, but-"

Arthur looked around, and seeing that the rest of the camp was occupied, he held out his hands. Merlin clumsily fumbled the shackles off with a small belt knife and a rock as aides.

"You're trusted enough for that?" Arthur gestured to the dinky looking blade.

Merlin looked at him as if he'd done something unbelievable, and threw the opened shackles to the ground. "Prat," he muttered. Arthur had no idea why. It didn't occur to him that maybe his new ally of sorts might have wanted some kind of thank you. The prince passed the whole thing off as a strange peasant custom and ignored it as Merlin went on to another explanation. "I took it a year or so ago and no one bothered to take it back. Dras and the rest of his goons have enough magic where a little knife isn't much of a threat to them."

"Could you get me a sword?" Arthur asked, itching his neck.

The other prisoner tilted his head quizzically, "A sword?"

"Yes. I want you to give me my sword. But any weapon you can find will work as well."

"Do you want a plate of roasted boar along with that? What about a pile of gold?" Merlin asked dryly,

"What else does his royal pratness require?"

"Merlin, I'm trying to get us out of here. Do you not want to get your freedom? Do you not want to make this Dras pay for all he's done to you? I understand that you are scared, but I can help you. You just have to trust me."

Merlin paused, once again, and looked down. He gave a sad little smile and looked away.

"I'll help you however I can. I don't this Dras will notice I removed your shackles. I am going to leave before we draw too much attention."

He started walking away, leaving Arthur all by his lonesome.

"Idiot." Arthur muttered with no actual venom in his tone, shaking his head.

He thought he heard the faint whisper of "Prat." in response.

Merlin had some thinking to do. A lot of thinking.

It was better than boredom he supposed, definitely better than never ending guilt and rage.  
But Merlin was used to boredom. It had become his coping method, his alternative to losing his mind from grief and unavenged loved ones. There was only so long that one could keep a white hot anger burning without a way to release it. After finding that there was absolutely nothing he could do about Dras and the others, Merlin forced himself to calm down and bide his time. He realized even that was unhealthy when he started to plot out ten different extermination schemes every night. Now his vengeance had to be stuffed into immature minute annoyances he could cause- making food taste awful, hiding money, being as sarcastic as he could imagine-nothing was too small. These little things were the only breaks in boredom.

For some reason, Merlin had made nice with the prince.

The prince of Camelot who would kill him when he learned the truth, who thought sorcery was inherently evil and that it all should be exterminated.

Years ago, he would have scared him. Years ago, Merlin would have disagreed with him.

After all, what had sorcerers done? Killing, kidnapping, stealing- Dras and his followers were not moral paragons.

For some reason, Merlin found himself liking the Pendragon. He was rude and arrogant but seemed to have a good heart in spite of all his prattishness.

Arthur was also Dras's enemy, so an alliance was attractive. It was destined to be short-lived, and would be ended as soon as certain truths were revealed. Merlin was more than sure that he had just arranged his own death but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

Merlin had surprised himself with what he had told the prince. Merlin had hedged around his identity, but other than that he'd been pretty truthful. Perhaps it was an effect of having no one to really talk to for years? Merlin had been a very friendly person, and although he had never had many friends he was likable enough that he never had true enemies until Dras had come into his live. His village could have made his life a lot harder than it was if Merlin hadn't been such a nice boy. He'd largely grown out of that- or, well, tried his best too. He had to become tough, and his outstanding anger at the people who had killed all he had loved and otherwise destroyed his life wouldn't allow him to forgive anyone related to Dras or his minions enough to hold a polite conversation.

So yes, Merlin recognized that he was being a fool. He was clumsy at any socializing that didn't have him grinding his teeth and glaring. But, in some ways, the little surviving bit of 'Merlin of Ealdor' was desperate so someone to talk to.

Even if the someone didn't say a simple thank you when Merlin had broken open his shackles. _Honestly_!

Now he had to find a sword.

Where was he going to bloody find a sword? This was a camp of vengeful sorcerers with a lot of power available at their fingertips and a few less-than-peaceful druids. Why would they waste time on swords when they could throw fireballs? He could possibly find a bow since a few of the men when hunting but he wasn't entirely sure Arthur would find it useful.

Luckily no one paid him any attention any more. Even a year ago, there was always someone watching him. Sometimes in awe, sometimes with suspicion- There was always a pair of eyes following him. However, by now, the men had gotten used to his unbreakable captivity.

Due to his collar, everyone knew he couldn't escape. He couldn't go too far, he couldn't use any of his stolen magic, and he couldn't hurt any of them. There was even a control on the stupid thing that made it impossible for Merlin to intentionally burn any food that he might cook. That was added two years before when Dras's cousin Arell had tried to make him useful and had him help with cooking dinners. Merlin had of course made everything intentionally awful, if not sickening, and Dras eventually grew tired of adding more controls on the band just to match his cousin's whim, so those chores where stopped fairly quickly. That was the last time that the camp had tried to make Merlin do anything other than exist.

Living was a waiting game. Dras had plans that wouldn't be interrupted for the world, and since Merlin had been controlled, he hadn't had anything specific for him to do until the coronation. More boredom, really.

Merlin, however, also had plans. Unlike Dras, Merlin was pretty sure the charade wouldn't last long. The average druid might recognize Merlin as Emrys (which Merlin doubted since he was fairly certain he wasn't Emrys, but since he had a lot of magic the druids thought he was) and obey him, but he doubted that they'd follow Dras. Merlin knew he wouldn't obey any of Dras's instructions, the butcher lacked leverage after all, and he'd do his best to alert everyone to the actual arrangement of Camelot's leadership. After that, he hoped there'd be a civil war of sorts and Dras's puppet kingship would eventually be toppled.

Dras always overestimated his control of Merlin. Yes, he did have all his vast magic under his control, but Merlin still had his spirit.

Dras only knew how to forbid Merlin from doing things. He had a background in the slave trade and runes, and rarely ventured to other branches of magic. Merlin had heard of magics that could possibly take his will, but luckily Dras had never expressed interest in any of them.

Overconfidence would be his downfall, Merlin would see to it.

Yet, Arthur was so sure that Dras would never get that far to the throne. He was arrogantly sure that his father would never be deposed. He thought that a silly little sword could make a difference.

It was hope rather than cynicism, and Merlin found himself drawn to this attitude. Even if Merlin knew the whole venture was useless, he let himself get swept away into Arthur's charisma. Maybe Arthur could catch Dras unaware at least?

To his surprise, Merlin actually located a sword in Arell's tent. He wrapped it in an old blanket that

Arell often used for picnics to conceal the weapon, not wanting to risk it. Then he made his way back to Arthur, curious on what the prince would do next.

…

When Merlin actually returned with a sword, Arthur was actually surprised. After some thinking alone, he had decided that asking his new ally for a weapon was actually kind of dangerous for him. Arthur was extremely glad that he hadn't gotten Merlin killed.

It was even his own sword! What luck!

Arthur even gave an approving nod to the dark-haired boy. Merlin rolled his eyes a little and didn't comment.

"So, what's your plan? I'm sure it's wonderful."

"I challenge this Dras to a duel." Arthur made up on the spot. He really hadn't thought much ahead. Things always seemed clearer when he had a sword in his hand, so he had left his planning till now.

"He's a sorcerer." Merlin stated.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly, what did that have to do with anything?

"He's not exactly a knight you can just throw your glove and get an honor-bound, one on one death match. He could make you fall asleep with one word, let alone kill you."

Arthur considered this. How had his father dealt with sorcerers in the past? He knew the armies of Camelot were mighty, but how had they dragged people with this power to the pyre? Uther had always just claimed that Camelot was infallible but as a commander, Arthur knew that strategy was quite important.

Did this mean he needed a strategy?

Great.

"I'll work something out." Arthur shrugged, confidently.

"I wish you luck." Merlin gave a small smile that seemed to say 'I don't see how you'll do this but I'm extremely interested to see what madness you'll do next'.

"Idiot." Arthur said, slightly offended. Merlin just kept the smile and added a head tilt and a shrug.

A twig snapped and Arthur turned to face the noise. Standing not ten feet away, was a tall man, around thirty years of age and clean shaven. His hair was long and a shade between blond and brown, straighter than any Arthur had ever seen. His nose was comparable to a hawk's who had ran into a cliff on Sunday in pursuit of a squirrel.

"Dras." Merlin provided, and Arthur lifted his chin slightly, inspecting his enemy.

"Emrys, what are you doing with the Pendragon whelp?" He asked with a voice that was unbelievably warm and friendly. That explained his mass of followers, Dras was apparently very charismatic. Only his accusing hazel eyes betrayed that he wasn't talking to his best friend of all time.

Arthur looked around for Emrys, not seeing anyone but Merlin. What? Was Dras a madman? Did he usually talk to thin air, or was Emrys invisible.

"An answer, Emrys? You know I hate it when you sulk."

Merlin was glaring as the man with so much hatred that Arthur was chilled. Yes, given his history with man, Merlin had cause to hate him, but this measure of fury was something that Arthur never thought that the peasant was capable of. The contrast was startling.

"My name is Merlin." Merlin growled, putting so much emotion in his tone that Arthur shuttered.

So Dras was a madman who mistook people for this Emrys character! Maybe he could use this as an advantage.

Dras laughed, "And here we are again! I'm worried how little you've learned in all these years. Your denial is always so amusing." Dras walked closer, so graceful it was closer to a dance, "But you still haven't answered my question Emrys. I'm waiting."

Merlin refused to speak and Arthur was thinking about drawing the sword out from under the blanket. If he was quick than he could maybe kill Dras during his hallucinatory episode. If Dras just stepped a little closer…

"Emrys." Dras said shortly, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Merlin didn't seemed cowed but spoke anyways, "Talking, Dras. I'm sure you've heard of the practice. You certainly run your own mouth often enough."

"But the Pendragon? Why Emrys, think of his unworthiness! I mean, great Emrys, speaking to the Pendragon butcher! The absolute sacrilege. " Dras said mockingly, "Are not your servants better conversationalists? Someone will surely take offense."

Arthur felt himself start to get riled. He wasn't a butcher! He was a prince! Soon to be the Crown Prince even! Not a townsm- oh. Dras had meant it as an expression, not another mistaken identity.

Well, with crazed madmen it was hard to tell…

Unless he wasn't mad. Unless Merlin was the sorcerer Emrys!

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**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed. I will try to get the next chapter up in a timely matter. I'm kind of hoping you review, because I love every review. Seriously, they're awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

The Cult of Emrys  
Chapter Two  
_Disclaiment: The Author only owns what she owns, and nothing she doesn't_

_**A\N**: A new chapter this soon? Wow. It's a surprise for me too. But since the response was absolutely phenomenal, it kind of inspired me to get this out quickly. Makes me feel guilty about some of my other fics, but let's not get into that. Anyways- To anyone who also reads _Plans_ I do have the next chapter about halfway done. So that will get an update soonish. But anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter of _The Cult of Emrys_!_

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Previously:

_ "Emrys." Dras said shortly, an unspoken threat hanging in the air._

_Merlin didn't seemed cowed but spoke anyways, "Talking, Dras. I'm sure you've heard of the practice. You certainly run your own mouth often enough."_

_"But the Pendragon? Why Emrys, think of his unworthiness! I mean, great Emrys, speaking to the Pendragon butcher! The absolute sacrilege. " Dras said mockingly, "Are not your servants better conversationalists? Someone will surely take offense."_

_Arthur felt himself start to get riled. He wasn't a butcher! He was a prince! Soon to be the Crown Prince even! Not a townsm- oh. Dras had meant it as an expression, not another mistaken identity._

_Well, with crazed madmen it was hard to tell…_

_Unless he wasn't mad. Unless Merlin _was_ the sorcerer Emrys!_

_..._

Then again, that would mean that Dras thought that Arthur had a career of butchery and that was too farfetched to contemplate. That solved it then. Apparently, Dras was delusional.

…

Merlin took a deep breath, wondering how far he could go. When conversing with Dras, Merlin always had to remember that as long as Dras underestimated him, he was that much closer to winning the long game. Or, well, making Dras fail- as was his entire goal. Merlin had long discounted a win on his own behalf where he not only got his revenge but his life and freedom as well. Merlin had to remember to use his brain, not his acidic heart. Right now, he needed to distract Dras from noticing the sword.

Expressing his hatred was only a plus.

"Good. If the prince holds a better conversation than the _servants_, then perhaps the dolts need replacing. I mean, you were the one who hired them."

"Oh, Emrys, how your stinging words wound me!" Dras looked as sorrowful as a fox who was caught before he could kill the last chicken in the henhouse, "Tsk, Tsk. You'll need to learn diplomacy before you take the throne. Camelot shouldn't have to suffer another _rude_ king."

"Then you should stab yourself now." Merlin suggested, "Save the kingdom."

"_Stab_ myself? But with what? You wouldn't have happened to have a sword on you, would you? Because we both know how _pathetic_ that would be." Dras pouted, giving a significant look to the old blanket covering Arthur's blade.

Merlin made no outward reaction. Arthur sprang up and tried decapitation.

Merlin felt his eyes grow wide as Arthur moved fast, swinging his sword with precision from years of practice. However, it wasn't fast enough. Not when Dras could slow down time and put up a shield.

Dras started laughing, a loud friendly guffaw. The rest of the camp was watching them now. Dang it.

"You've had your fun, my friend. But don't you think it's time to face the truth of the matter? Nothing you can come up with in that bigoted little brain of yours will even annoy me. I don't want to ruin your hope, as I do believe in being kind to simpletons, but living in a world of delusions in neither encouraged nor healthy." Dras had his arms spread theatrically, and talking loud enough for everyone to hear, "As an educated man, I find it my duty to look after those poor unfortunates who just don't have the capacity for thought. I apologize, but you are no longer a prince, my friend, after all, ruling is above your regrettable capabilities. It is actually a kindness that I have removed the burden of the throne from your weak and feeble mind! In fact, to show that I am indeed a gracious man, I will allow you to keep your little toy. After all, it would be heartless of me to take the possession of a child."

With that, the man sauntered off to his own tent, a beloved smile possessing his face. A few of the cultists of Emrys even clapped, while others snickers and gave approving nods of their head.

Merlin wished he had just a little bit of magic back- just a little. Just enough to remove Dras's head.

He shifted his gaze back to Arthur, wondering how he had reacted.

Arthur's posture was soldier straight, his sword at his side in a position that should of looked stiff, but since the prince was so familiar with his blade, it merely looked comfortable. His face was blank, exempting his eyes which showed a whole range of emotion.

"His mistake." Merlin commented,

"What?"

"You're not his friend. I highly doubt you're going to take that lying down."

"You're right," Arthur scratched his neck, "I'm not going to be beat by a madman! His delusions are bizarre! Can he recognize anyone correctly? Do the people here usually just ignore his insanity? I mean, he thinks that you're Emrys! You!"

Merlin about fell over. How dense was this prat?

"And to confuse me with an idiot child?" Arthur shook his head, "The man has clearly taken leave of his senses."

Merlin's head tilted to one side. Well, at least this meant that Arthur didn't know about Merlin's magic yet. If Arthur was this oblivious then perhaps the alliance could continue. Anyways, it wasn't like Merlin had access to his magic anymore, Dras and his foul collar took care of that. It might _be_ too difficult of a concept for Arthur that while Merlin was born with magic, he didn't have any now, so Merlin still wasn't going to shout about it but he could relax a little.

Merlin wondered if Arthur had received any head wounds in his knight training.

…

Arthur wasn't sure why, but the knowledge that Dras was an insane sorcerer made his confidence rise. What did he have to worry about? A bad theater performance? Sure, the man's speech had been a little insulting if taken seriously, but it would be uncharitable of him to take the words of a madman to heart.

No. That was a lie.

If Arthur could then he'd challenge Dras to a duel for that grave insult. It was an affront to his honor. Such words gave Arthur license to kill his captor, even if the abduction hadn't taken place.

No matter if Dras was mad, Arthur was going to end him.

Arthur knew that the man had known exactly what he was saying. Those words were so cutting that they must have been prepared.

The sorcerer didn't take him seriously, didn't fear him, didn't even see him as an equal. Instead, Arthur had been demoted into an act, a skit to rouse the troops.

Arthur was not exactly happy about that. He was used to being at the top. The only people who would _dare_ argue with the prince of Camelot were his father and the Lady Morgana. Even then, Uther was the king as well as his patriarch- He was supposed to be of a higher rank than Arthur. Morgana was Morgana, she argued with everyone. But none of his knights, not a servant, and certainly not a peasant, had ever not shown him the respect his rank demanded.

Sorcerers were supposed to be the scum of the earth. His father declared them to undeserving to live. They were supposed to be the lowest rank imaginable.

The airs Dras put on were disconcerting. His words were too polished, his clothing too tailored. He looked like a nobleman, if not a royal, who not only had a scholar's knowledge but also a commander's experience in the world. He was a far cry from the ratty old sorcerers that Arthur was used to seeing, the thin and dirty elders who spoke of dead relatives as a pain that never healed, a pain that pulled them to revenge. None of those sorcerer's were particularly talented, and a simple sword dispatched them if they didn't make it to the pyre.

It struck Arthur that Dras was more regal than his father.

Dangerous territory, Arthur warned himself, trying to regain that fleeting self-confidence found in careful control. It was much better to think of Dras as overdramatic and senseless. Arthur resolved that he would not 'fall' for Dras's showmanship.

After all, Arthur allowed this logic, Dras had clearly planned that encounter. Carefully controlled the situation, and only showed what would make him look good.

Arthur's pride alone refused to give in so easily to such tricks.

Now Merlin was looking at him as if he was the crazy one. Arthur sighed. Merlin may have been strange but for some reason Arthur liked him. Perhaps he better give an explanation…? It wasn't like he owed the peasant anything but-

"I'm not giving Dras the satisfaction." Arthur said. It was a tad oblique but Merlin seemed to understand.

"That's my motto." Merlin admitted, "He will never get a cooperative action from me."

"What happened to all your cynicism?"

"Still there. I never said I had become a good little soldier did I? I'm full to the brim with rebellion."

"Idiot."

"Prat." Merlin shot back.

"What the heck?" Arthur looked at his sword and shrugged, "Want to plan a rebellion then, _Mer_lin?"

"No, I don't much feel like it."

"Too bad, you don't have a choice."

And that was the start of an actually thought-out plan of chaos.

…

This was the most fun that Merlin had had in years! He hadn't displayed such a big show of uprising for a long while, and this time he had a partner in crime. Two times the insurgence!

The point of the current plot was to raise such a big ruckus that the knights of Camelot would find them easier, or at least Arthur.

It would have been beautiful if Merlin still had his magic under his control. He could have burnt Dras's tent to the ground, created fearsome monsters out of the smoke, and chased around his longtime captors with intent on dooming them to the worst afterlife they qualified for. Yes, he might have daydreamed about it occasionally.

As it was, a torch lit oiled canvas on fire just as well as a flash of his eyes. Imagine that.

And a sword could cut the horse's reins to free them for running away.

The best thing about the plan is that the risk of backfiring was, well, low to anything that actually mattered. Not that Merlin actually cared about anything other than revenge, hadn't for a long time, even if he did admit that he would feel sorry if Arthur died. So close to the final invasion, Dras didn't have time to handle the two chaotics. Since they weren't dead already, he couldn't kill them without interfering with his own plans. Blank check for mischief.

Somehow, it had become a competition. Merlin had been performing malicious pranks for years, but Arthur's collar was empty of all the bans that Merlin had on his. Merlin's experience wasn't that much of an advantage because he had to be extremely creative. Arthur could always fall back on Merlin's suggestions for old favorites that had been useful before, but the camp kept more eyes on Arthur as well which add some difficulties. Merlin was largely invisible but was restricted by magic, while Arthur was mostly free but restricted by his visibility.

Originally, it had been a simple 'leave a trail for the knights to find' but it quickly became 'these two teenagers have lived serious lives for too long and here's an outlet where causing trouble was the goal!'

Merlin's previous actions against the camp had always spawned from pure malevolence. With Arthur's competitiveness, his own apathy towards his own life, and years of vengeance occupying his existence- It became fun.

The main rules were just to cause as much havoc as they could before they were caught and stopped.

By the time Dras bothered to knock the competitors out, three tents had caught fire, a dozen horses had escaped, a goat had chewed all of Arell's clothing, the nightly stew had the full supply of spices dumped in there, four money pursed were buried while another was tossed in a tree, the stock of honey had been slathered on a tree where someone had set up a hammock, six hammocks had been damaged in ways that wouldn't show until their owners climbed in, and the camp anvil had been hidden.

All in all, Merlin was pretty satisfied.

Some of his hatred was finally able to be channeled in a, somewhat, constructive way. Only a little though. Teeny tiny bit.

…

Dras was slightly amused as well as highly annoyed. Did these boys really think a little irritation would do anything for their cause? He found it interesting that the two had formed an alliance so quickly. Who would have thought that the most powerful warlock of all time was bound by destiny to the tyrant's son?

He knew the prophecies. He was probably the most learned in them in all of Albion. He had to be to follow his plan.

Dras knew very well that the Pendragon brat was the Once and Future King. However, no matter the young Pendragon's reputed values, Dras was never going to let Uther's spawn sit on the throne. Years before, when he had seen a charming little boy show his friend a dragon made of embers, he had decided that that part of the prophecies could be cannibalized.

Emrys was the real protagonist. He was the power, the magic. He created a version that with selectively chosen passages, made Emrys not only the savior of magic but the king to protect them all. The tale of a sorcerer king who would end Uther's reign struck a chord with many of the oppressed and it became child's play to gain followers. Hardly anyone knew the true versions, with the community living in frightened isolation and largely decimated by Uther's extermination, it was simple to turn a whisper of an old fairytale into the marching song of an army.

Every sorcerer was desperate. Dras preyed on that. He offered both vengeance and peace, the beginning of a new era and yet respect to the old ways.

The druids were even easier marks. They're culture ensured that they were raised to revere Emrys. Some of the elders resisted Dras's version of the prophecies but the average druid didn't know enough to argue.

The magical community accepted that Emrys would be a great and powerful leader. That was enough to take Dras as far as he needed to go.

The nonmagical people could be easily bought by gold, or the promise of better times. They were not fond of the executions, the way that even if they accidently gave they're business to a sorcerer that they could be burned as well, and that they're taxes were used to fund witch hunts instead of useful infrastructure.

Too bad Dras had made Emrys an enemy early on in his scheme. Murdering his village had not been a good introduction. But the boy was nothing but a tool, and his instability then had made it possible to take his magic. It had been flowing off of him in waves, he had exhausted himself with grief and rage, and that had let Dras collar him successfully. If the specially designed band had been place on the boy when he was at full power then it would have either killed the boy, from such a quick deprivation of his magic, or exploded the band. The solution to temporarily lessen the boy's magic had been gauche, yes, but it had been necessary.

Emrys was more of an object than a person anyways. As long as Dras possessed his enormous power and his image then all was well.

The Pendragon was troublesome. The only reason he was still alive was that since Emrys's power was meant for the use of protecting the Once and Future King, Dras wasn't sure that it would allow the Pendragon's death. Until means of proving that the Pendragon was unnecessary, the brat would be kept alive. Perhaps he could at least be used politically? His camp of most loyal followers, the ones who knew that the Cult of Emrys wasn't really ruled by the Emrys, seemed to enjoy his little show earlier. Desecration of enemies always excited a crowd.

He wondered what he would do with Morgana, known as le Fay in some of the prophecies. He could easily kill her. She wasn't even aware of her abilities yet, let alone fully trained. Since she was supposed to be the opposing force to Emrys, the source of his power, he couldn't just let her run around. If he could somehow work it out then perhaps he could leech off her magic as well.

Uther would burn. That was simple.

Tomorrow would be a day of great excitement. After years of planning, this was it. Tomorrow would be his smooth takeover of Camelot, and nothing would stop him.

Nothing had the ability to.

Certainly not the two teenagers of destiny. Ha. They weren't waking up until after Dras had the dungeons at his disposal.

Though, he did really wish they had left the hammocks alone. The screaming thumps were interrupting his beauty sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks again for all the reviews! For a while I've been writing oneshot crossovers and Supernatural fics so this is quite a jump. No one quite reviews like the Merlin fandom, do they? I hope this chapter also meets your satisfaction, I know its a little less dramatic (dreaded comedy snuck it's way in) and had a bit of exposition but it's kinda setting up for Camelot. As I said last chapter, I'm planning for this to be a short and quick fic so I'm going to be moving kinda fast instead of basking in status quo. Next chapter will be big, warning you now. As in exciting, not lengthy. It'll probably be about average for this fic in terms of word count.

So, again, I loved all of you're reviews! I hope this chapter was a good reward.

WhatIsThisNormalYouSpeakOf - Thanks for the first review! I have provided more and put a little bit more on Dras. I don't want to give everything away about him yet, but it was your suggestion that gave me the idea to give him a focus in the point of views. I know I'm kinda liking him so far, so I'm glad that you found him interesting as well!

battlemaiden518 - Thank you! I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I hope you also enjoyed the second chapter as well.

guest - I'm extremely happy to hear that the idea has interested you. I got so into it that I wrote half the first chapter on my phone and then decided that I should probably do something with it because it kept holding my interest. I have a lot of "doodles" on my phone that I never get around to finishing, let alone publishing. Well anyways, thank you very much for reviewing!

aRangersHorseLovesApples - How is less than 24 hours? lol. I'm glad you like this fic so far. Hopefully the rest of my updates while continue to be swift. Thank you so much for reviewing!

stormus- Yeah, the characterization of this is so interesting. I'm trying to balance the early versions of the characters with the new experiences and I find it very interesting. Like Merlin is darker, as you said, he's lost hope, doesn't value his life, and craves vengeance but at the same time, he naturally has a good heart, he's still snarky, and destiny has still bonded him to Arthur. I'm being very careful with Arthur since this is pre-season one Arthur which means Full On Prat, and yet the circumstances don't allow for him to lord over everyone. In some ways, he's having to grow up faster because right now his life is in danger, as is Camelot, which always bring out his responsible side anyways. He's in an utterly new environment with people that completely baffle him. So, yes, that's fun to play with. Especially since he's still the most _oblivious_ character on the face of the earth- In fact, I felt I had to rationalize a little bit of it to return to the more dramatic tone. Arthur logic is sometimes sooo out there that in this incarnation, some of it's intentional on his part because there are some things that he'd rather not think about. I blame Uther since its proven that he and his son don't exactly have matching moral compasses, and before Merlin it seems that Arthur didn't really challenge it. And- well, I'll stop here :)  
Anyways, thanks so much for you're review. It makes me excited that someone else is interested in the changes AUs do to characters.

Felicity P- Thanks! I'm really glad you liked it. Did this chapter come fast enough? :D Anyways, thanks for reviewing, I appreciate it!

dee- Oh, thank you! I'm extremely flattered. I really appreciate that you took the time to review! :)

GoldenFireFish- Oh, wow, such compliments! I'm glad that you enjoy my writing style! I know it's not perfect, but it's what I do, so I'm glad you like it. Thanks so much for reviewing!

CheshireCat- I'm glad you like the idea! What's coming up will prove to be pretty interesting, at least in my opinion. I know I'm excited to write it at least :)  
Thank you for taking the time to review!

1983Sarah- Yay! I'm happy that you like it so far. I hope this chapter is ok. I know chapter three will prove especially interesting... So, thanks a lot for reviewing! I highly appreciate it!

So, how was this chapter? Is anyone particularly interested in a particular aspect? Do you want anything elaborated? Or are you ready to see the Cult move into Camelot? And, yes, I understand that Dras's speech may have been reminiscent of a few things... Particularly the first sentence. Did you notice?


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